


Bloody Ridiculous

by r0nj4



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Fluff, Jimmy is a fusspot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8020084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0nj4/pseuds/r0nj4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy makes Thomas quit smoking, and quickly changes his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jimmy couldn’t stop looking at Mr Barrow’s mouth. It was turning into a bit of a problem, seeing as Thomas Barrow always appeared to be doing something to make Jimmy turn his attention towards said mouth. He was always smoking. Sucking his cheeks in, circling his lips around a cigarette. Or eating. Sneakily stealing offcuts from the kitchen to Mrs’s Patmore’s great distaste. There was something about the way Thomas would lick his lips when eating that made Jimmy entirely transfixed. Of course, rationally, Jimmy could understand that Thomas wasn’t doing it _intentionally._ But it sure felt like that to Jimmy, losing his train of thought every sodding time Mr Barrow so much as entered the same room he was in. It was getting out of hand. Jimmy had trouble sleeping because of it. He would toss and turn into the early hours of morning, until finally he bit down into the pillow, and took himself in hand with the picture of Thomas’ lips in his mind. Jimmy was intensely puzzled the first time he had done it. It had felt good before, touching himself, but never _that_ good. He didn’t stop to dwell on it. After all, he and Thomas were mates now. Best mates even. And it wasn’t as if he imagined actually _doing_ something with Thomas. He only ever thought of his mouth. 

 

It all took a sudden turn for the worse one night when Jimmy and Thomas were up late, alone in the servants hall, playing cards. Thomas reached for his pack of cigarettes and Jimmy instantly felt a heat creeping up his neck. Thomas placed the smoke between his lips and Jimmy had to look away, the sight was practically _sinful._ In a matter of seconds he could feel his cock twitching beneath the table, and by the time his hardon had reached it’s full size, Jimmy could feel the profound heat of a blush on his cheeks.

”Don’t!”, he reached over the table and took the cigarette directly from Thomas’s mouth, stubbing it out in the ashtray immediately.

Thomas only gaped at him, eyes wide in a baffled expression between shock and amusement. 

”I was going to smoke that”, the older man said with his eyebrows raised.

”You really shouldn’t”, Jimmy replied, sounding a bit more flustered than he would’ve wished.

”An’ why’s that Jimmy?”, Thomas’ looked muddled.

”They’re bad for you, is all.”

”And why this sudden interest in me health?” Thomas raised one of his eyebrows slightly. 

Jimmy could still feel the reason pressing ardently against the fabric of his pants. 

”You can’t die and leave me here alone with Alfred, now can you?”, Jimmy tried to soothe things over with one of his most charming smiles. The one that he was sure Thomas could never resist.

”Bloody ridiculous”, Thomas muttered. ”Fusspot.”

To Jimmy’s great surprise, however, Thomas didn’t reach for his cigarettes for the entire rest of the evening. 

 

After a week had passed, Jimmy wasn’t so pleased anymore. Thomas had quit smoking. Just like that. It bothered Jimmy. Firstly because he deep down knew why Thomas did it. It was because of _him._ He was obviously still hopelessly in love with Jimmy, and would do anything the footman wished. It made Jimmy fidgety just thinking about it. That someone would ever care about him that much. He ignored the part of his brain that was silently pleased by the discovery of Thomas's continued affection for him. Secondly, Jimmy was unhappy because the absence of cigarettes meant a definite decrease in demonstrations of Things Thomas Barrow Can Do With His Mouth. Jimmy had believed this was goal. He shouldn't be so unhappy. Yet he was, and his trouble sleeping only got worse now that the image of Thomas’s lips pursed around a cigarette had begun fading from his memory. Jimmy had to take some sort of action, immediately, or else he might go mad. 

 

On his half day Jimmy promptly walked into the village and bought himself a pint at the pub, taking a detour to the shops on his way home. When he got back Thomas Barrow was sitting on the bench outside of the servant’s entrance, glancing up at the stars. 

”Had fun?”, Thomas asked without looking at Jimmy, as if he could sense his presence. He had a smirk on his lips. Jimmy wondered what he was thinking about. Did he ever think about Jimmy? Had he ever thought about Jimmy’s lips the way Jimmy had thought of his? 

”’twas alright. Here you are”, Jimmy tossed the pack of smokes into Thomas’s lap and Thomas looked startled. His hair had fallen into his face after a long day of work. It made him look younger than when it was all slicked back. _He looks lovely_ , Jimmy thought. 

”Thought you wanted me to quit”, Thomas frowned at Jimmy, who sat down next to him.

”You look bloody ridiculous without cigarettes, you know”, it sounded a bit harsher than Jimmy had intended. Thomas only looked at him quizzically, as if he were trying to understand him. 

”You’re an odd one, Kent”, he said absentmindedly as he picked up a cigarette and placed it between his lips. With a flick of the switch of his lighter the cigarette sparked to life, and a thick scent of tobacco spread in the air. Thomas returned to gazing up at the black sky.

”Oh”, Jimmy hadn’t intended to make a sound. He had trouble controlling himself, seeing the way Thomas lips sucked on the cigarette. 

”What?”, Thomas looked at him. ”Did you say something?”

Jimmy rubbed his increasingly sweaty palms against his suit pants to distract himself from over thinking what he was about to say.

”You should always smoke”, he said. ”Never quit.”

”Whatever you say, Jimmy”, Thomas chuckled. "I think I could manage that."

”Do you promise?”

”Yeah, yeah, fine, I promise. Fusspot.”

As Jimmy glanced over at the man next to him, he could’ve sworn there was a certain satisfaction over Thomas’s smile. Like when you have a secret. The two men quickly eased into their normal type of conversation - discussing Alfred's sad attempts at flirtation with Ivy, something particularly funny the Dowager Countess had said at dinner, or what picture they would go to Ripon for on their next shared half day. The smugness didn’t waver from Thomas’ lips. _He knows_ , Jimmy realised. He didn’t push the thought away this time, only moved slightly closer, so that their knees pressed together on the little bench beneath the vast sky looking down on them.As a warm feeling sparked in his chest, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile. _I’ll tell him one day. Not tonight. One day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I discovered the Thommy fandom long after Downton had ended. I'm very pleased I did, though. This is the first Thommy-fic I've posted, and English isn't my first language so I apologize for potential errors. Writing dialogue is especially difficult for me, seeing as I can't for the life of me get my head around the Yorkshire dialect. Anyway. Thank you for reading! :)


	2. How life ought to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy reckons it's about time he starts smoking too.

”No, your drags are way too quick, look at me,” Thomas said and took a slow puff on his cigarette. 

*

 Jimmy had been in love with Thomas Barrow for four months and sixteen days. It was completely, utterly, ridiculous. At first, he thought himself only to be a bit confused, as young people had been known to be before him. They were mates, best mates, and if Jimmy also happened to be very fond of Thomas’s mouth that wasn’t that big of a deal. If Jimmy had a certain appreciation for Thomas’s eyes, or his hair after a long day of work, or his smile, that didn’t really _mean_ anything. It wasn’t as if Jimmy ever thought about anything _indecent_. Maybe Thomas Barrow had become one of Jimmy’s favourite things to think about, late at night in bed, with his hand down his pants. But it wasn’t as if he ever imagined Thomas naked or anything, not at all. (That had only happened once or twice, in Jimmy’s defense. Alright, maybe more than that, but still, it wasn’t that big of a deal.) People think of their mates all the time, surely it didn’t make a difference where their hand was at the time, right?   

 And then one morning everything had changed. Isis had somehow gotten down to the servant’s hall, and started making her way back up the stairs just as Mr Barrow was making his way downstairs with a tray in his hands. Thomas’s view must have been obscured for a second, and everybody heard the crash. The cluttering of cups breaking and the shout coming from the normally so composed under butler. Jimmy had been in the kitchen, putting on a smashing show for Daisy and Ivy, if he could say so himself. He had just told one of his best jokes - the one about the Duke and the horse - when he hard the scream. Everything stopped. He knew that voice so well. It was the same voice he had heard in his bedroom what felt like a million years ago. Shouting. Crying. _Because of all there is between us._ And Jimmy couldn’t think, he just ran. When he reached the stairs Thomas lay face down in a small pool of blood, his left wrist twisted awkwardly. _He’s dead. And I never told him,_ was all he could think. 

Thomas Barrow wasn’t dead. He had a severe concussion, a broken wrist, as well as a large gash right across his forehead. But he wasn’t dead. That’s when Jimmy knew he loved him. 

Jimmy felt awkward at first, it was like suddenly seeing a colour you’d never noticed before. A colour so vibrant that it sometimes hurt just looking at it. Being around Thomas, without spilling out every thought in his mind, hurt. Yet Jimmy Kent composed himself. He didn’t say anything. He was so afraid. It was too dangerous. And, honestly, Jimmy wasn’t entirely sure that Thomas still cared for him in _that_ way. He took care of Thomas instead, to his best ability. Jimmy would bring Thomas’s breakfast up for him every morning. He even insisted on reading Thomas the paper aloud every evening after he had finished his working hours, using the broken wrist as an excuse. They quickly got into a routine. A routine that meant spending every morning and every evening together. Jimmy never wanted the days to end. This was how life ought to be, he thought each night as Thomas laughed at his jokes and smiled at him. 

”Fusspot,” Thomas would call him, when Jimmy insisted on reading him the paper even as the wrist had begun to heal. 

”You have to be careful you know, can’t leave me here alone with Alfred,” Jimmy would mutter in reply. 

By the time Thomas’s concussion had gotten better, and he started taking his meals downstairs with everyone else, Jimmy knew that he was one hundred percent, ridiculously, in love with Thomas Barrow. And while the morning routine of breakfast might’ve come to an end, Jimmy still went to Thomas’s room every night.

”Just checking in,” he would say when Thomas opened the door. Thomas would walk back towards his bed, leaving the door open so that Jimmy could enter. That was the agreement. 

”I can read the paper by myself now, you know,” Thomas said a month after the accident. 

”Well, you still have to be careful,” Jimmy would say with his typical pout. 

 *

Four months and sixteen days later they both stood outside the servant’s entrance one morning with a cigarette pursed between their lips. 

”This is stupid, I’m never gonna learn am I?” Jimmy said, looking put out. 

”I don’t even get why you want to learn, I hear they’re dangerous,” Thomas said.

”Well, that’s not the point is it?”

”Who’re you trying to impress? Ivy, is it?”

Jimmy snorted. ”Is it likely?”

Jimmy had asked Thomas to teach him how to smoke the night before. It didn’t seem to be working, he would only cough and get a burning sensation in his throat.

”Why do _you_ smoke?” he asked that morning in the courtyard. 

”It clears my head a bit,” Thomas said. 

”I don’t really see the point, to be honest.”

”Then don't start.”

Jimmy couldn’t very well tell him why he wanted to start smoking. It was just an other excuse for him to be near Thomas. In his mind he had formed this image of the two of them sharing a smoke every night before bed. And with it being February and all - it wasn’t exactly strange if their shoulders might brush against each others at one point. 

”Remember when you tried to make me quit smoking?” Thomas suddenly asked. 

Jimmy could feel a blush creeping up his neck. He had tried to forget about it, many times. Things weren’t as bad now as they had been then. He didn’t suffer heart palpations or a rush of blood to his nether regions _every_ time Thomas smoked. 

”Yeah, five months ago,” Jimmy suddenly blurted out, regretting every word as soon as they had been spoken.

Thomas frowned slightly, but the corners of his mouth twitched up a bit, as he looked down at the ground. It was the same smile Thomas had worn that night five months ago when Jimmy had finally conceded and tossed the under butler a pack of cigarettes. _He knows._

”Oh, shut up,” Jimmy suddenly said and felt a wave of panic crashing over him. He hadn’t intended to say _that_ out loud either. 

”What?” Thomas looked up at him, attempting to restrain his obvious amusement. He was failing miserably. ”I didn’t say anything did I?”

Thomas leaned in towards Jimmy and bumped their shoulders together. It was the first time in months that Thomas had initiated any form of physical contact with the other man, and Jimmy could feel how his heart pumped at double its normal speed. 

”I can see what you’re thinking,” Jimmy had to look down, afraid to show the blush on his face, and even more afraid of meeting Thomas’s eyes. 

”Yeah? And what’s that?” 

_I love you I love you I love you._ Jimmy’s palms were sweating, he felt a tremor in his limbs, and his mouth had gone surprisingly dry. _Coward. Just tell him._

”You already know,” he whispered instead, immediately disappointed in himself for his blatant cowardice. Thomas sighed audibly and Jimmy finally looked up and faced him. His face was twisted, his brow deeply furrowed, and his hands clenched. Every ounce of Thomas’s normal composure had been thrown out the window.

”Jimmy….” his voice was strained. ”I have to hear you say it, don’t I?”

And that’s when Jimmy finally understood. Thomas couldn’t possibly touch him. He couldn’t initiate any sort of contact without risking being treated badly by Jimmy for another year, losing his job, having to leave with no reference, and possibly even jail. _I’m a bloody idiot._ Jimmy was struggling for words. Trying to form the right sentence in his mind seemed impossible. How could one ever fully explain their feelings to an other person? It couldn’t be done. So instead - after having been in love with Thomas Barrow for four months and sixteen days - Jimmy reached out his hand to him. He was shaking, as was Jimmy, when the younger man pulled him by the hand behind the firewood stores. Jimmy inched closer, pushing Thomas lightly against the wall. He was so close he could feel the other man’s warm breath on his face. Then, finally, Jimmy pressed his lips against Thomas Barrow’s. It was warm, and soft, and perfect. Safe. Something exploded in his chest. _How life ought to be._

”Love you,” was the only thing he could manage to whisper into Thomas’s ear. 

”I know, love,” Thomas whispered back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diverges from canon sometime between season three and four? Perhaps? Timelines are difficult. 
> 
> And yes, I know. I've read Flippyspoon's 1921 a thousand times. Sorry if this is blatant plagiarism.
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> (Also, can we please talk about how in English commas are written before the ending quotation mark, while in Swedish it's after? And none of my teachers ever told me this? I'm very upset.)


End file.
